


The corruption of Mickey Milkovich

by mickeymouseno1



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Boy Ian, Eventual Smut, M/M, Nerd Mickey, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeymouseno1/pseuds/mickeymouseno1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian Gallagher always prided himself on his sexual escapades.</p><p>Mickey Milkovich is a high-achieving student who just wants to get through high school.</p><p>What happens when the two collide?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Imagine Persons A and B of your OTP both go to a private school. Person A is really studious and innocent, like never been kissed type thing. In contrast, Person B got kicked out of their old school for sleeping with a teacher. One day Person B sees Person A in the hall and decides that ‘corrupting’ Person A will be their personal mission this school year. Up to you whether or not they succeed.

“Come in.”

Ian walked in and saw Kash sitting at his desk, concentrating on a messy scrawl that had been completely ravaged with red scribbles. Locking the door behind him, Ian approached Kash and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him from his shirt.

“I’m marking…” Kash’s protest gave way to a moan as Ian ran his hand down his chest before bending down to capture Kash’s mouth with his own.

“How about I mark you up instead?” Ian paused at his teacher’s belt and slowly unbuckled it, moving his mouth to latch onto Kash’s neck. He sucked at it hard, noting with frustration that Kash didn’t bruise easily, then unzipped Kash’s pants, before reaching in and stroking him softly.

Ian bent down, gradually dropping to his knees. Maintaining eye contact, he leaned in to take Kash in his mouth, applying some suction. Kash threw his head back back with a thump against the wall, and moaned as Ian took him deeper.

“Shit! I’m gonna…”

Ian barely had time to pull back before Kash was coming, a measly white spurt dripping onto the carpet. Groaning, he tucked Kash back in and glared at him.

“Really? Already?”

Ian reached over for a tissue and shoved it into Kash’s hand to clean himself off. Realising that Kash hadn’t responded and had gone very still, Ian looked up, confused. Kash’s eyes were no longer on him, and as he followed Kash’s line of sight, Ian smirked.

“Well, good evening, Principal.”

****

Ms Wright fixed him with a disapproving stare. “Mr Gallagher.”

Ian smirked and arched his eyebrow, leaning back on his chair. “Ms Wright.”

Ms Wright sighed. “I wish I wasn’t having this conversation with you, but you’ve had too many chances.”

Ian sighed dramatically in return. “That’s a shame.”

He rolled his eyes as the principal reached into a drawer and pulled out a thick folder, before slamming it on her desk.

“I understand that you may feel… apathetic towards our school program, but you do understand that we do expect concerted effort from all our students. Your brother’s achievements were indeed exceptional but your attitude and grades have only confirmed our initial doubts about accepting you in this selective school.”

Ian leaned forward in his seat, eyebrows furrowed. “What are you saying?”

Ms Wright closed the files she had been flicking through, and looked Ian right in the eye. “We’ve given you one too many chances. Your position in this school would be better off given to a student who would actually benefit from it.”

Ian slammed his fist on the desk. “Tell me what you’re saying.”

Ms Wright pursed her lips into a tight line. “I’m saying that you’re no longer welcome at this school.”

****

Ian rubbed his eyes exasperatedly as his sister slammed the fridge shut.

“It’s just a piece of paper, Fi.”

Fiona slammed the butter on the table so hard Ian winced.

“It’s not just a piece of paper, Ian. It’s your ticket to actually do something with your life. To get out of this neighbourhood.”

Ian began to sigh, but felt a sharp slap to his cheek.

“Don’t give me that attitude, Ian! I believed in you, you know? When no one else did. I took care of you when Monica dumped your freckled little ass on our doorstep in one of her drop-ins. I raised you and Lip to be able to do it. To do what I never go to do.” Fiona sniffled, and Ian reached to pat her on the arm but was rebuffed.

“No. Don’t, Ian. Just…” Shaking her head, Fiona turned away and resumed cooking.

Ian stared at the benchtop, feeling a wave of something uncomfortably close to guilt in his chest. He was about to move to escape Fiona’s dark mutterings when the phone rang. Fiona didn’t move to reach it. Ian sighed and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Mr Gallagher? It’s Ms Wright.”

Ian paused, quietly moved out of the kitchen and brought the phone closer to his mouth.

“Why are you calling me?”

There was a shuffling on the other side, as if she was getting out of her seat. “Well, since your… affiliation with Mr Karib could technically be classified as rape, he’s been pleading with me to allow this against my better judgement.”

“Allow what?”

A sigh. “I should not be doing this, but I have a colleague who may be able to accept you at their school.”

“But we don’t have the money-“

“It’s all taken care off, Ian. There’s only one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a boarding school in New York.”

****

“Toothbrush?”

“Check.”

“Lip’s old phone?”

“Check. And can’t you call it mine?”

“When someone gets expelled, they lose privileges. Like phone privileges. Tie?”

“It’s not like I’m gonna wear it, Fi.”

“Whatever.” Fiona cupped Ian’s face in her hands and looked him directly in the eye. “I can’t believe I’m letting you go. Please, Ian, don’t mess this up.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Lip took all the brains in this family, and don’t deny it.”

Fiona chuckled, but there were tears in her eyes. “We’ll miss you, buddy.”

****

“Ian.”

The old clock in the corner ticked.

“Call me Ms Matousek.”

Some typing as the principal entered his details into the computer in front of her.

“Here at Apple Grammar, we are a proud institution. I will not tolerate the activities you have been up to at your previous school.”

She stood up and swung a heavy bag towards Ian, who almost dropped it from his surprise and the bag’s sheer weight.

“Everything you require is in there, including your room number. Don’t corrupt your roommate, orange boy.” Ian could’ve almost sworn there was a smirk on the principal’s face as she strutted out of her own office, leaving him alone.

****

Ian looked at the map in his hands then back up at the room number. 69. Of course. Chuckling to himself, he pushed the door open. The room was cosy, Ian decided. There was barely any space apart from the two single beds lining opposite walls, the two cupboards facing each other, and a desk with two chairs. One of the chairs was already occupied, the guy with his back to Ian. His hair was coal-black, and Ian could make out the shine of a thick coat of gel on it. The guy was hunched forwards, poring over a textbook, and with his earphones in, he still hadn’t noticed Ian come in.

Ian stood there awkwardly before deciding to bite the bullet and tapped the guy gently on the shoulder.

“Jesus, fuck!”

Ian chuckled to himself as the guy whipped around, his eyebrows raised to his hairline, then paused as he took in the guy’s features. He had bright blue eyes, sharp through the thick frame of his glasses. His lips were full and puffy.

“Argh, shit, you’re the new roommate, Ian. I’m uhh… Mickey.”

The curse-filled almost-greeting jolted Ian from his thoughts. He’d gotten lost thinking about just how much he’d like to have their room number reflect them getting up to some activities during the night. Or the day. Or now.

“Yeah. What you studying?”

Ian waited for a response, but Mickey had already put his earphones back in and was reading another passage with a ferocious intensity.

He dumped his bags on the empty bed and looked towards the door. Might as well explore since his roommate didn’t seem to be entertaining him anytime soon.

****

“So you’re Ian, the new guy?”

Ian looked up as a tall guy with chestnut hair stood in front of him. He slid into the seat next to Ian’s and held his hand out.

“I’m Nick.”

Ian shook it gingerly.

“I just saw you sitting here, and my Calculus teacher told me we were having a new student soon, and I put two and two together, you know?”

“So we have classes together?”

Nick nodded. “More or less, I’m also doing French though. So, you only just arrived this morning right? Classes already started few weeks ago though. Why are you only here now?”

Ian grunted. “Got kicked out of my last school.”

Nick laughed. “Nice. What for?”

“Umm…” Ian blushed. “Sleeping with my teacher.”

Nick laughed even harder this time. “Awesome, man. Was the pussy good though?”

“Umm… his ass was fine?”

Nick slapped him on the back. “You gotta tell me more sometime.”

Ian chuckled, feeling at ease that Nick hadn’t cared at all at Ian’s revelation.

Whatever Nick had to say next though went unheard as Ian saw Mickey enter the hall. Mickey literally swept through the hall, rushing past and collecting his food before sitting in the very corner by himself and eating silently while staring at his phone.

There was a laugh behind him. “Careful, Ian. Don’t fall for Mickey Milkovich.”

Ian looked back. “Why not?”

“The guy is literally all work, no play. You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m also pretty sure he’s never done anything, if you catch my drift.”

Ian sputtered. “He’s a virgin?”

Nick snorted. “I don’t think you’re the right person to be judging, man. But yeah, he’s a completely innocent nerd. It’s actually sorta cute, if that’s what you’re into, I guess.”

Ian hummed in return as an idea slowly formed in his mind. He smirked and held out his hand towards Nick, who looked at it warily.

“Do I want to know what you’re thinking?”

Ian nodded in Mickey’s direction before turning back to Nick.

“100 bucks that I can corrupt Mickey Milkovich by the end of this year.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ian bristled as Nick doubled over laughing, slapping his hand on his thigh. He saw Mickey look up briefly, giving them a confused stare before returning his attention to his phone.

“What?”

Ian huffed in annoyance as Nick gasped for air, before he finally deigned to respond. “Dude, did you just bet a hundred bucks?”

Ian looked away. Right. This was a private school. Full of rich, trust fund babies with a grand inheritance waiting to be bestowed on them upon their graduation. These guys would probably blow through a grand without a second thought, let alone a measly hundred.

“Why don’t we up the ante a bit?” Nick held out his hand this time. “3 grand.”

Ian’s eyes widened. “3 grand?!”

Nick smirked. “What? You ain’t confident in your… sexual prowess?” He wriggled his eyebrow.

Ian knew he was falling for Nick’s obvious baiting, but spit out, “Of course I am.”

He gripped Nick’s hand firmly and with all the confidence he could muster, said, “You’re going to owe me 3 grand when I corrupt Mickey Milkovich.”

The bell rang and Nick saluted him before running off to class. Left alone in the hall, Ian’s bravado wore off, only realising now that he really could not afford to lose this bet.

****

“Now we can simplify the sum of these trapezoids to give us this formula…”

Ian gave up on making sense of the teacher’s writing.

“Wake me up when this abomination is over,” he groaned, leaning forward to bury his head in his arms.

Nick laughed quietly beside him. “No sleeping in Mr Gavin’s class. You’ll regret it.” He flicked at Ian’s arm, who slapped back in annoyance. Nick didn’t relent though. “I mean it, Ian. Come on, I’ll keep you up.” He paused and looked around. “I spy with-“

“Really?” Ian turned his head to look at Nick, trying to fix him with a judgemental look. The effect was lost by his face being half-buried in his arms though, and Nick continued.

“With my little eye, something starting with M.”

“Mickey.” Ian paused. Shit.

Nick laughed out loud, ignoring the glares of the teacher and students around him. “Close, but no, my mind isn’t fixated on the nerd at the very back of this room.”

Ian whipped his head around.

“Wow,” Nick scoffed. “ _Now_ you’re awake.”

“Mmhmm.” The response trailed off as it left Ian’s mouth. His attention was focussed on Mickey, pushing up his glasses up without marking his forehead with his fountain pens, while scribbling down whatever the teacher was writing. Nick was blathering on about something, but whatever it was became lost between the lines as Ian looked at the colour-coded notecards next to Mickey’s exercise book, and admired the furrowed brow and full lips transferring the tension to the end of the pen. Almost as if they were sucking-

Ian jerked from his thoughts when Nick smacked him on the back of his head.

“I know what your dirty mind was conjuring and I don’t need you popping a boner next to me.”

And Ian’s life was just a series of circus acts, because immediately, the room went silent. The teacher turned around, sighed and spoke up. “Mr Gallagher, do you need a… toilet break?”

Nick snickered next to him.

Ian pinched him on the thigh, internally pleased with the pained gurgle that rose from the guy, before putting on his best nonchalant voice, “I’m good.” He turned towards Mickey, who had happened to look up at that moment. Wow, he has nice eyes, Ian thought, before Mickey’s cheeks flushed and he quickly looked back down.

****

“When we examine the 17th century theocratic paradigms underpinning John Donne’s metaphysical poetry, we witness Donne’s grapple with a personal and spiritual crisis…”

Ian found himself once again slamming his head onto his table. “Save me from this. I’d rather die than listen to all this waffle about facing death.”

Nick chuckled. “It’s not that bad, bro. It’s only seven poems to analyse in two weeks.”

Ian glared at him and flipped the finger, only making Nick chuckle again.

“If it makes you feel better, the nerd is in the back corner cycling through six highlighters.”

Ian whipped around again, ignoring Nick’s knowing snicker. Mickey was indeed sitting at the back, a different exercise book, this one covered in different colours presumably from his highlighting and annotations. He was keeping his head down quite intently though, so Ian turned around again.

“I’m so bored with all this mortality talk.”

“Mortality. Big word-“

“Fuck you. I’m so bored, let’s play something.”

“Like?”

Ian took a moment to consider. “Call out penis as loud as you can without anyone saying anything.”

Nick fixed him with the most judgemental look he had given all day. “Really?”

“Yeah man, I’m actually going to die of boredom. I’ll do it first.” Ian took a deep breath, and called it out.

“PENIS!”

The teacher turned to glare at him, but resumed writing on the board.

Nick rolled his eyes when Ian looked at him expectantly. “PENIS!!!”

Ian followed soon after. “PENIS!!!!!!!!!!”

The teacher whipped around, seemingly ready to lecture them before she was cut off by someone else.

“Shut the _fuck_ up! People are trying to learn here!”

Ian turned around to see Mickey glaring at him, his blue eyes smouldering. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pursed in a tight line. Ian smirked and poked his tongue out, internally pleased with himself when Mickey’s eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise.

The teacher fixed him with a disapproving stare before she turned to the board and continued writing.

****

Ian whistled to himself cheerily as he entered his room (shared with Mickey, a part of his mind noted salaciously), when he saw the innocent nerd already at the desk with books spread out everywhere, even on the floor.

He gave a long whistle. “Dude, do you ever chill?”

Mickey turned and glared at him. “Some of us actually need to try.”

He continued glaring at Ian who only grinned back.

“Whatever, man. Do what you want.” With that, Mickey turned back around and put in some earphones.

Ian walked over and pulled them out.

“What?” Mickey grunted.

Ian was quite impressed with Mickey’s patience, if he was being honest, but he powered on. “We never really introduced ourselves to each other.”

Mickey grunted in reply. “You’re Ian, I’m Mickey. We’re roommates. There. You happy now?” He turned around and jammed in his earphones again.

Ian hummed and set about unpacking his suitcase. He just needed to bide his time. Mickey Milkovich would be his soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll help you with your fucking work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got around to updating this!
> 
> A bit short but I didn't want to put another scene into this chapter.

Whoever said that maths was beautiful and logical could shove it up their asses, Ian decided, as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. It was a cool Thursday night and Mickey wasn’t taking up the whole table with his mess of books, having not returned from the library yet, so Ian had been working for a while.

Well, perhaps ‘working’ wasn’t entirely accurate. Squinting at the textbook and lamenting the list of questions he’d yet to get through hardly counted as work. To say he was working implied he’d actually achieved something in the last couple of hours.

He put his head down on the table and decided to close his eyes for a few seconds. He wasn’t getting anywhere anyway.

Ian was jolted awake by the startling sound of a door slamming against the wall and a soft curse. Wiping at the drool that had collecting around his mouth, Ian shook his head. When had he fallen asleep?

Behind him, he heard his roommate moving about, dropping some heavy books that had probably been borrowed from the library onto his bed. Ian looked at his homework, which had barely  been touched and was due tomorrow. He groaned and sunk his head back onto the table.

“Maybe next time pay attention to what the teacher’s saying instead of messing around with Mr 420 in class.”

Ian turned around, frowning at the sheer rudeness. Mickey was already in bed, wrapped snugly in his blanket. He wasn’t very tall, so he seemed to blend into the bed, especially with the bunch of books and clothes strewn around it too. Not very good for bringing casual hook-ups back, Ian noted.

“I’ll just leave the lamp on if you’re sleeping now.”

Mickey seemed to consider his options, before he threw aside his blanket and rolled out of bed, marching over to Ian and plopping into the other seat. Before Ian could react, Mickey had grabbed the sparse notes he’d been making all afternoon and was reading them with a deep furrow on his forehead.

If Mickey’s winces and eye-rolls were anything to go by, Ian knew what work he had done was probably complete shit anyway.

He sighed and began to pack up his books. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

Mickey pursed his lips and slammed the book on the table.

“I’ll… I’ll teach you.”

Ian paused. “What?”

“I’ll help you with your fucking work.”

“You want to teach me maths? What’s in it for you?”

“Don’t tempt me to change my mind, ginger.” Mickey shifted in his chair, and for a moment Ian thought he was going to go back to his bed. But then he simply reached for his glasses which were sitting on the foot of his bed and pointed at the textbook.

“Here. You’re doing this wrong.” He scribbled some notes all over Ian’s own work. Reading over them, he was surprised to find that what Mickey had written made actual _sense_. Mickey continued working through the rest of Ian’s crap notes and Ian watched him. He noted the ever-present furrow that creased more prominently whenever he came across one of Ian’s blunders. The way Mickey would purse his lips as if contemplating giving up on his crusade of helping Ian in Maths before he shook his head and scribbled some more. He and Mickey sat like that for hours until Ian finally worked through the last problem himself and Mickey nodded in approval.

Mickey rubbed tiredly at his eyes.

“Alright, Gallagher, I’m off.” He leaped into his bed and wrapping himself in his blanket, turned towards the wall.

“Wait, Mickey.” Mickey turned to face him.

“What, Gallagher? I’m tired.”

“Why’d you help me?”

Mickey sighed.

“I can pay you back somehow,” Ian offered.

Mickey snorted. “No thanks, just let me go to sleep now and we’ll be even. Night, Gallagher.” He turned back around, effectively and abruptly ending the conversation.

Ian remained still, exhaustion slowly creeping into his body, but there was still confusion. Why had Mickey helped him? Sure, they were roommates, but apart from that, they barely talked. Mickey was always studying, either in the library or his room, and Ian, feeling like he wasn’t doing nearly enough work, would always waltz off to Nick’s room.

He looked at the clock. 1am. It was too late for this kind of thinking. Ian turned off the light and scrambled into his own bed. Looking at the bundled up lump on the other side of the room, he felt something akin to _fondness_ wash through him and whispered, “Thank you.”

The only response he got was a soft snore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian gets a little incentive to work harder.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

Mickey chuckled, rubbing his nose. “Lots of work to get through, Gallagher.”

Ian stared in despair at the stack of books Mickey had dumped on his desk.

****

Let the record state that Ian Gallagher was indeed focussed for a full hour, furiously copying down whatever Mickey rambled on about.

During the second hour, his attention was starting to drift, and he began to wonder how to get Mickey off his tangent about implicit differentiation (which he was sure wasn’t even in the curriculum).

As such, he decided to play a game. Taking a lollipop from his pocket, he opened it and gave it a few sensuous licks while holding direct eye contact with Mickey.

“So, umm…”

Ian smirked. He was successfully distracting a now flustered Mickey, whose tangent had been completely derailed and his eyes now fixated on Ian’s tongue.

“Yes, Mickey?”

Mickey cleared his throat and levelled Ian with a glare.

“Nothing. As I was saying…”

By the third hour, Ian was pretty sure he’d absorbed absolutely nothing that night. On the other hand, he had moved on from his lollipop to his finger and slowly but surely moved his seat towards Mickey’s.

Before he could continue though, Mickey got up abruptly.

“Fuck me for giving a shit, you prick.”

Ian raised his eyebrow and winked salaciously at him. “Is that an order?”

Mickey simply kicked his chair away and stormed out their room, slamming the door behind him.

****

“And dude, I’m telling you, he just stormed out! What’s wrong with having some fun? He must be allergic to it.”

Ian chuckled at his own joke, but realised Nick wasn’t laughing with him. Instead, upon turning to him, Ian realised Nick was almost glaring at him.

“What?”

“So let me get this straight-“

“Not much straight about it,” Ian snorted.

“Whatever, so you’re telling me that Mickey offered to help you catch up with all the shit you’ve missed ‘cos you’ve been lusting after him and you spent the whole time ignoring what he was actually saying and hitting on him instead?”

Ian scoffed, “Yeah, so what?”

“Yeah, so you’re a massive douchebag, fuckwit.”

“What’s wrong with wanting to have some fun?”

“And what, just throw back Mickey’s help in his face?” Nick shook his head. “Oh look at me, I’m Ian, I’m a dumb shit who can’t keep it in his pants long enough to actually listen to you, but never mind that, just get with me.” Nick snorted. “Yeah, he’s definitely going to want to sleep with you after that.”

Ian groaned. “So you think I’m a prick too?”

Nick sighed and stole a fry off Ian’s plate. “I just think you might want to re-consider how you go about wooing the nerd.”

Ian hummed in return. “I’ll think about it.”

****

The library was a daunting place, Ian thought, as he entered. The number of books was enough make Ian want to walk right back out. But first, he went to the desk at the farthest corner, where sure enough, Mickey was sitting, determinedly reading through some dusty old book.

“Hey, thought I might find you here.”

Mickey held up a finger, pointedly finishing the page he was on before he turned to Ian, his eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Just wanted to ask if you were okay with helping me some more?”

Mickey simply looked at him.

“I sorta ignored you last night, I know. But it was getting long and boring and…”

“Jesus, Gallagher. You’re like a kicked puppy.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Mickey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t realise how much there was to learn! I don’t know how you keep it all straight-“

Mickey snorted, to Ian’s confusion. He also muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Not likely.”

“What did I say?”

Mickey waved him off. “Nothing, nothing, just thinking to myself.”

Ian blinked. “Anyway, I’m sorry and you’re smart and… please help me?”

Mickey stared at him. For a moment, Ian considered backing away until Mickey drummed his fingers on the table. “Yeah, okay Gallagher. You were a little shit but whatever.”

Ian grinned. “Thanks, Mickey.”

“But I think you need a little incentive.”

“Huh?”

Mickey grinned back. It was goddamn scary one, if Ian had any say about it. “Giving you a challenge, dude. Beat me in the upcoming test and I’ll buy you dinner at that Jap restaurant that just opened nearby.”

Ian simply stood there, his mind going completely blank. A challenge? Like a battle of wits? He gaped at Mickey, before frowning. Why the hell would Mickey invite him to dinner? Was it a date? Maybe it was a superiority complex. Maybe Mickey thought (probably correctly) there was no way Ian would beat him. Ian shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He opened his mouth to argue that there was no way he was going to do that.

What came out was, “You’re on, Mick! Beating you is only going to make the food taste that much better!”

The brilliant smile Mickey gave him in return gave Ian heart palpitations.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian does the exam.

With only ten minutes until the test, Ian was still furiously scanning his notes while Nick watched him bemusedly.

“Dude, I think you’re going a bit overboard. The test is in ten minutes.”

Although Ian knew that he wouldn’t improve his results with this last-minute cramming, he couldn’t help it. “But what if…”

“No, we haven’t covered it, and yes, I’m sure. And yes, I’m sure I know what you were going to ask ‘cos you’ve asked five variants of it already.”

“Argh, but what if Gavin wanted to stuff us up?!” Ian flipped through his notes again.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “I can’t tell if you’re corrupting Mickey or he’s de-corrupting _you_.”

“… Fuck off.”

****

“Your time has started.”

 _Already?_ Ian gulped and turned the cover page over. The first question was quite doable, Ian noted with pride, quickly writing in the answer and moving on. To his surprise, he found himself recalling random pieces of information he had absorbed from Mickey’s rambling yet strangely effective lessons. Dinner with Mickey didn’t seem so far-fetched at all, it seemed.

When Ian reached the third page of questions, his newfound confidence plummeted. _Fuck…_

To his complete and utter astonishment, an essay question was printed neatly in the middle of the page.

 _Who puts essays in a maths test?_ Ian scoffed inwardly, and decided to use something he remembered Mickey talking about. After that, his answer was a healthy percentage of bullshit complemented by vague, waffling sentences.

By the time Ian finally finished his piece, an examiner announced, “Ten minutes remaining.”

Scrambling when he saw there were still a couple of questions left, Ian frantically rushed through them, not bothering to check if he’d used the right method or not.

“Pens down!”

Ian scowled, cursing the supervisor’s annoying voice, and quickly scribbled in his last answer before handing the paper in.

He turned to Nick, who’d been sitting behind him.

“So, how did you feel about that?” Nick asked, stretching out his shoulders.

Ian shook his head. “All I know is that I’m going to find a way to get really, really drunk.”

****

Ian winced as he opened his eyes. Bright sunlight blinded him momentarily before he was able to take in his surroundings. A groan next to him alerted him to Nick slowly waking. Cursing his pounding headache and vowing for the hundredth time he would never drink again, he dragged himself from what was presumably Nick’s bed. Nick had wrapped himself back in his blanket, so Ian headed out the door, ready to return to his own room.

When he reached it, Mickey came out, wearing a tank top and shorts.

“H-hey, Mickey,” he greeted, trying not to move his head too suddenly lest it worsened his headache.

Mickey gave him a bored look. “You’re hungover?”

“Ugh, my head hurts.”

Mickey continued staring at him.

“Don’t be so judgy.”

“Not a real word, Gallagher.” Mickey shook his head as if he decided it best to leave that battle for another time. “I’m going to get breakfast.”

“Wait!”

Mickey paused. “What?”

“How’d your test go?”

Mickey looked at him like he was testing whether Ian’s concern was genuine before his eyes softened. “Fine.”

Ian grinned back. “Awesome, Mick!”

Mickey looked away and coughed into his hand. “Whatever. Don’t drink away the few precious brain cells you have.” With that, he left for the dining hall.

Ian, on the other hand, stumbled into the room, into his bed, and fell asleep.

****

When he came to, Ian registered Mickey in his peripheral vision, sitting at their shared table and hunched over a textbook.

“We just finished,” Ian groaned. “Why are you still studying?”

Mickey hummed. “Just doing some readings in advance for next semester.”

“Whatever… how long have I been out?”

Mickey scoffed. “Long enough for the results to come out.”

Ian scrambled out of his bed to dress himself and race to the library. “What? Really?”

****

Nick was already jumping when Ian arrived.

“I take it you passed?”

“Yep!” Nick wrapped an arm around Ian’s shoulder. “Come on now, hurry up and check your score.”

Ian quickly logged in, and opened up the site. As it began to load, he closed his eyes, and only when Nick cheered did he open them, seeing the number 88 printed firmly next to his name.

“DUDE! What the fuck?!” Nick clapped him on the shoulder.

Ian grinned to himself. _Holy shit_ , he might have even given Mickey a run for his money!

Seeing Ian’s expression, Nick smirked. “Might even be enough to beat the nerd, Ian. Go get some of that.” With another clap on the back, he sent Ian strolling smugly out of the library.

****

“Hey, you’re back.”

Ian rushed over to Mickey, who was still hunched over his textbook as if his close proximity would make him remember it more quickly. “I got 88, Mick!” Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Mickey’s neck.

To his surprise, Mickey didn’t move away, but simply chuckled. “Nick job, Gallagher.”

“So? Did I do it?”

Mickey didn't respond for a moment and Ian was about to poke him before he finally said, “I’m not paying for all the sushi you wolf down.”

Ian blinked for a moment while Mickey looked to the ceiling as if asking it to give him strength before it finally registered.

“Oh… oh! When are we doing this?”

“Tonight? It’s the weekend. We can sneak out easily.”

Ian whooped internally and Mickey seemed to cringe at Ian’s excitement.

It was only when he’d reached Nick’s room to blurt his joy at his chance tonight that it hit him.

Mickey hadn’t mentioned his own test score.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey takes Ian out to that restaurant. Ian goes for a special kind of dessert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been so hard to find time to continue this, so I apologise in advance. This is also completely unedited and the first time I've properly written smut. Urp. Pls don't kill me for my writing inadequacy.

Deciding what to wear to a date that might not be a date was stressful, Ian decided, as he stared at the clothes strewn over Nick's bed.

"Remind me why I let you empty your whole closet onto my bed?" deadpanned said owner of bed.

"Because I can't let Mickey see what I'll wear before the actual thing! It'll ruin the wow factor that will go towards me ending up in his bed. Preferably with me wrapped around..."

"Okay, gonna have to stop you there, dude. I don't wanna know the specifics."

Ian flipped him off before turning around.

"What do you think?"

Nick gave a long whistle. "Man, if the nerd doesn't scramble to rip your clothes off looking like that, I might have to."

Ian snorted. "Thanks, but your ass ain't worth it."

Nick scoffed in mock hurt before shaking his head. "The shit I deal with."

****

"Where the fuck have you been, Gallagher?"

Ian strolled over to where Mickey was standing, obscured by a tree with haphazardly drooping branches.

"Relax, none of the teachers are out..."

Ian paused as he finally saw Mickey in his entirety. He was wearing some snug black jeans and a white shirt with a low V-neck, and all Ian could do was drool at the sight of this inexplicably hot nerd.

Said nerd was suitably unimpressed.

"Well can we get going already? Time is money and all that shit."

Ian simply nodded eagerly and made sure to keep a good view of Mickey's ass as they left.

****

"Wow, that's..."

"Not a fucking word."

"Wasn't gonna say anything."

Ian grinned at Mickey's glare as they settled into the darkest corner of the restaurant.

"Need me to pull out a chair for you?"

Mickey narrowed his eyes. "All I need you to do is sit away from me and look pretty."

"You think I'm pretty?"

"Not the fucking point."

****

To say Ian was gobsmacked was an understatement. Food seemed to be some sort of magical trigger that turned Mickey into a happy, talkative person. Ian was seriously considering leaving chip packets around their room to get Mickey into this food-induced state more often.

"I swear man, bus drivers are the fucking bane of this world. The sign says come 5 minutes earlier just in case, then it turns out the stupid idiots have already passed by or they're not coming at all."

Ian groaned in acknowledgement. "That really is the worst."

"They can't even get the routes right sometimes," Mickey continued with his mouth full of prawn, "stupid assholes."

Shoving more crab into his mouth, Mickey finally seemed to have reached the end of his rant on shitty buses.

"So, Gallagher, how you finding this shithole?"

"The school? Yeah, yeah, it's turning out not so bad."

"Hanging out with junior Bieber?"

"Who, Nick?" Ian burst out laughing. "I guess his haircut really does look like... oh my god, how did I not notice that before?"

As Ian continued laughing, he saw Mickey grin at him, the first true smile he'd seen on Mickey since meeting him. If Ian thought Mickey was hot being grumpy and cursing him out, Mickey grinning was an absolute beauty.

Their brief eye contact was broken by a high-pitched, "Would you like your bill now?"

Ian quickly turned to the waitress and nodded, and when he looked back, Mickey's face was already back to its usual expression. His smile was already etched into Ian's mind though.

"So..." Mickey nudged Ian's foot gently. "Who's footing the bill?"

"Umm..." Ian looked at the table nervously. "We usually dine and dash."

"That right?" Ian looked up to see Mickey smirking at him. "I'll cover it."

Ian started to protest but was cut off by Mickey raising his hand.

"I got it, Gallagher. Besides, gotta treat my student for his awesome marks, eh?"

Ian paused. "Is... is that all this is? Just you being a good tutor?"

Mickey sighed. "Why you gotta make a big deal out of everything?"

"Oh." Ian couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.

Mickey sighed again and his face softened. "It's more than that. We're hanging out, good friends and all that shit. Better?"

Ian grinned in response.

"Are you made of money, or something? Your tip was ridiculous!"

"Ain't most of the kids here made of money?"

"Huh. We barely make enough to get by."

Mickey looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"You're not one of those rich boys whose daddy buys them a new car every weekend?"

Ian snorted. "The only thing Frank does every weekend is stumble in needing a new liver."

"Huh."

Ian looked at Mickey, who seemed to be deep in concentration.

"What?"

Mickey waved him off. "Nothing, just... you talking about Frank Gallagher?"

Ian blinked. "You know him?"

"Yeah," Mickey rubbed the back of his neck. "Southside Chicago."

Ian gaped at him. "No way. No fucking way."

Mickey only smirked.

"You're Southside?"

"Yep," Mickey responded, drawing out the 'p'. "Surprised?"

"Holy shit. Wha-what..." Ian could only splutter. "Why are you here then?"

Something dark crossed Mickey's face for a moment before he shook himself. "Family shit."

Ian knew better than to probe any further, seeing as Mickey was gradually retreating into himself and falling silent. Instead, he stepped in front of Mickey and bent down to his eye level. *God, he's short.'

"Well Mickey, you gonna walk me to my door like a true gentleman?"

Mickey huffed out a laugh. "We're in the same room, dipshit."

"You inviting me to a sleepover?"

"Fuck you is what you're invited to."

"Yes, please."

Mickey stopped abruptly.

"What?"

Ian backtracked. "I just meant-oof"

Mickey cut him off by pressing his lips to Ian's, eliciting a breathy moan. Before Ian could take the kiss further, Mickey had pulled back, grinning.

"Huh. That felt pretty good."

Ian felt confidence coursing through his veins and pushed Mickey against their door.

"Yeah? Why don't we go even further?"

He attacked Mickey's neck as Mickey fumbled in his pockets for the keys before there was a clang.

"F-fuck. You made me drop them."

Mickey bent over, giving Ian a full jaw-dropping view of his ass. _Damn_ , it was a mouthwatering sight.

_Smack._

A pit of dread formed in Ian's stomach as Mickey froze. _Shit, I think I've gone too far_.

"Did... you just hit my ass?"

"Uhm... yes?"

Mickey shook his head, finally unlocking the door, but Ian noted him surreptitiously adjusting his jeans.

He grabbed Mickey by the shoulder and turned him around before palming his crotch and smirking. Rock hard.

"Looks like you liked it, Mick."

"Fuck off," Mickey turned away, a blush forming on his cheeks.

"Mm," Ian simply grunted before dipping his head to meet Mickey's lips again.

After years of discreetly fucking Kash in classrooms, kissing Mickey felt less frantic and more affectionate. He could feel Mickey's inexperience in the way he hesitantly moulded his lips to Ian's, but enjoyed how he made up for it by enthusiastically, albeit bluntly, slipping his tongue into Ian's mouth and bringing a tentative hand up to grip his hair.

"Mmm..."

Ian didn't know who had moaned but it only propelled him to slowly lead Mickey towards his bed, where they continued moulding themselves together.

"Wait."

Ian paused, looking at Mickey's flushed face.

"What?"

Mickey bit his bottom lip. "I haven't really..."

Ian chuckled. "That's okay. We don't have to do that tonight." He gradually moved down towards Mickey's jeans, running his lips along Mickey's soft stomach, partially exposed under his T-shirt.

"Why don't you let me take care of you?"

Ian smirked as Mickey only moaned in response and placed his hand over Mickey's crotch.

"That okay?"

Mickey nodded half-heartedly, his head already tipped back, and Ian unzipped Mickey's jeans with one smooth motion.

"Mm... Mickey..." Ian took Mickey into his hand and started stroking him softly.

"Ahhh... Ian..."

"You like that?"

"Mm..."

Taking that as a sign to continue, Ian gradually sank down between Mickey's legs, making sure to hold eye contact as he took Mickey into his mouth.

"Arghhh!"

Ian moaned instinctively, turned on by Mickey's loud whine as he bobbed his head, sucking and lapping up the precome that had began accumulating on the head.

Mickey continued whining as Ian made a complete mess, saliva and precome dribbling from his mouth.

"I-I... ugh!"

Ian bobbed faster in response and it wasn't long before warm liquid was filling his mouth. Ian nearly came himself to the sound of Mickey shouting his name as he rode his high.

"Fuck..."

Ian crawled back up and kissed Mickey, who jolted in surprise as Ian pushed his tongue in, sharing his come, before relaxing into it.

They lay there, panting for a few minutes before Mickey swatted at his arm.

"Need me to return the favour?"

Ian was all for having Mickey between his legs, but seeing the way he eyed Ian's crotch nervously made him change his mind.

"Nah, you can do it next time."

Mickey grinned in relief and settled his head on Ian's chest, already drifting off to sleep.

Before Ian could do the same, he heard his phone buzzing on the nightstand, and reached over to grab it.

_Nick: You gonna clear your clothes from my bed anytime soon?_

Ian huffed a laugh and nuzzled his face in the heavily gelled hair then sent a quick text in reply before settling in to sleep with a grin on his face.

_Ian: Mission accomplished._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey's version of Murphy's Law: Just when something looks like it might not be so shit, it all goes to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. This fic just stopped. I know it's been so, so long. And I'm sorry.
> 
> I've left the fandom, to be honest. Seeing how these two were treated by the show just sapped any sense of enjoyment I had for this ship.
> 
> But I started writing again recently, because I've had some free time. And it turns out that I'd planned this story in its entirety.
> 
> So I decided. I'm going to do one final act for this ship, which should've been treated so much better in canon.
> 
> I'm going to see this story through to its end. Finally.
> 
> If you're still reading, I salute you for sticking around. I'm so sorry. And I thank you so, so much.

A loud buzzing was the first thing Ian registered when he woke. Opening his eyes, Ian was momentarily stymied by the sunlight and blindly fumbled around for his phone. He checked it, only to see it was an alarm he’d forgotten to switch off. For a moment, he considered using this time to get up to close the blinds, realising they’d been too preoccupied to do so last night. That train of thought lead to him remembering in vivid detail what exactly had happened last night.

As if sensing his thoughts, at that moment, Mickey shifted where he’d been lying against Ian’s chest and turned his head to face Ian. Mickey gave a sleepy smile and croaked, “How’d you sleep?”

Ian grinned at the adorable nerd and buried his nose in Mickey’s hair. “Perfectly.”

Ian felt rather than heard Mickey snort, the vibrations going into his chest.

“So uhh… Gallagher, what you got planned for today?”

“I’m probably just going to hang out with Nick. He smuggled some good weed in. It’ll be awesome.”

Ian felt Mickey go still and shift slightly away from him. “Oh.”

Ian looked down to find Mickey staring blankly back at him. “What’s wrong?”

Mickey shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay…?”

Mickey gave a long sigh and shook himself out of Ian’s grip. “Alright off you go then.”

Ian watched on confusedly as Mickey started dressing himself and busying himself with organising his textbooks. “Now? It’s still early. Nick’s probably not up yet, we can still have some more fun.”

Mickey chuckled. “Some more fun, eh? Just go, Gallagher. I’m sure you’ll have a blast getting high with your friend.” He fidgeted with his hair and reached down to put on his shoes. “I’ll see you later,” he muttered before racing out the door.

Ian, left alone in a now cold and empty bed, scratched his head. “That was weird…” He checked his phone again to find that it was only 7am. There was no way Nick would be awake at this time. It made him wonder what exactly Mickey planned to do for the whole day. Probably stay couped up in the library all day long… Ian paused. The library would be completely quiet for he and Mickey to do whatever they wanted now, right? He grinned and made his way over. He’d meet Nick when the latter finally returned to the land of the living.

****

Sure enough, after Ian looked in a few dark corners of the library, he finally found Mickey huddled on the ground between two bookshelves, with textbooks lying open around him. Ian chuckled to himself at just how much of a _nerd_ this kid was, then creeped up behind Mickey before slapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Holy shit, what the---” Mickey looked back with a terrifying glare. “Oi, what the _fuck_ , Gallagher!”

Ian smirked and leaned in to peck the nerd on the lips. For a moment, he felt Mickey respond, before he was shoved away harshly.

“I thought I told you to go get high with that Bieber kid.”

Ian attached his lips to Mickey’s neck, revelling as the latter moaned softly. “I thought this would be more fun.” Before he could continue, Mickey had frozen again.

Ian groaned. “What is your problem?” He looked up to see Mickey glaring at him.

“Maybe I don’t just want to have fun.”

“What?”

Mickey sighed. “Nothing. Either way, I don’t wanna be caught making out--- _Gallagher_!”

Ian acquiesced and stopped nuzzling Mickey’s neck. “Fine, fine. Not like anyone’s gonna be here at this time, anyway.”

“I need to study-“

“We literally just finished out exams.”

“Fuck off.”

When Ian tried to get closer to Mickey, he found himself being pushed away firmly.

“I’m being serious, Gallagher. Leave me alone. I’ll see you later.” With that, Mickey went back to his textbooks and ignored Ian completely.

 _‘What’s wrong with him?’_ Ian wondered.

****

Nick was waiting for Ian as he walked into the dining hall, and smirked upon seeing him.

“Your lips look very… puffy.”

“That’s what making out in the library will do to you,” Ian replied airily. “And getting to third base the night before.”

Nick laughed in disbelief. “Wow, you moved pretty quickly.”

“Yeah well, need to corrupt him as soon as possible.”

“I think you’re on the right track.”

****

Stevie Nicks’ ‘Landslide’ had held a special place in Mickey’s heart for a very long time, specifically since he was eleven.  It had been two years since he’d arrived at this school, and he was desperately missing something—anything—that reminded him of his mother and sister.  He’d been put up in an empty room, and had found an old of Fleetwood Mac’s, conveniently called Fleetwood Mac.  Mickey didn’t know much about the band, or record players for that matter, but he sat down with the ancient-looking device and figured out how to use it.  Here, where he knew nobody and preferred it that way, the music offered him solace and reminded him of home.

And now, Gallagher was fumbling around with it, and Mickey was getting _pretty fucking annoyed._ The asshole had come bumbling back into their room, and made a beeline straight for Mickey’s crotch. As if there was literally nothing else on his mind. It was downright infuriating, even if Mickey wanted to get on his knees and return the favour.

“Can you get your fucking paws off that? I’d appreciate it if you left things the way they fucking are.”

“Jeez okay,” Ian put his hands up. “I’m just bored. Why’s this thing so important anyway?”

“This _thing_ reminds me of my mother,” Mickey snapped at that, softening when Ian flinched back. “She…she ODed when I was nine years old.”

“Mickey-,”

Mickey held up his hand. “No, you wanted to know.  I don’t know how or why, but she was always a big fan of her, and Rhiannon was my bedtime song.  This… this was the only piece of her I have left.”

Ian stood there, silent in thought. “Thanks… for telling me.”

“Yeah well, don’t go blabbering it to anyone. Now can I get back to these textbooks, or what?”

He turned around, and missed Ian’s conflicted expression, as if he was seeing something different in Mickey for the first time.

In Ian’s haste to jump Mickey earlier, he’d chucked his phone on Mickey’s table.

And just as Ian’s luck would have it, the phone now flashed, allowing Mickey to see a certain new message.

_Mission accomplished, eh? Only one base left to go with the nerd._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is not as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thanks to those who commented on the (now deleted) chapter I posted a couple of days ago.
> 
> Now:
> 
> So I read through the chapter I posted and realised something horrible.
> 
> I used the wrong plan. This is why the chapter did not make much sense.
> 
> (This is what happens when you just leave everything all over the place in one massive word doc without any organisation whatsoever).
> 
> So, I am sorry for that mistake.
> 
> This is the real Chapter 8, using the plan I was SUPPOSED to use. I will delete the old (and horrible I am so sorry you had to read that) chapter ASAP.

“What the fuck is this?”

Ian had been deciding which bed to sleep in, when the short brunette had stormed up to him, eyes blazing as he held up Ian’s phone.

He took a short moment to read Nick’s message. _Shit_.

“Gallagher, what the fuck is he talking about?”

“I…” _Quick, make something up, Ian!_ “He was just talking about… my mission to…”

Mickey’s glare intensified.

“To become your best friend!” _Heh… nice save, Ian_.

“That’s not what it fucking looks like to me.”

“He’s… just teasing me, that’s all. He doesn’t know anything happened between us.” Ian mustered the widest grin he could, and tried not to break down under Mickey’s withering stare.

Ian held his breath as Mickey paused. The anger in his expression didn’t fade, but his glare softened.

“…Fine. I… I trust you, Gallagher.”

Ian inwardly let out a sigh of relief, and ignored the churning in his chest telling him that he was doing something extremely wrong. Instead, he took his phone back, went to his own bed and quickly burrowed under the blankets before Mickey could change his mind.

****

 _You trust Gallagher? What a fucking joke_.

While Ian had morphed into a human burrito, Mickey had gone back to his desk, wondering what the hell had happened to his brain-to-mouth filter. Although he certainly didn’t regret what the two of them had done, he kept wondering, what exactly did Ian think of him?

The redhead only seemed interested in finding opportunities to make out with him, which was great and all, but now combined with that message that he’d been so cagey about? An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of Mickey’s stomach, as he decided he had to confront a certain person.

****

“I saw your message to Gallagher.”

“Oh, that? How’s he going? Has he gotten you into bed yet?”

“That’s his mission?”

“Yeah, if he wants the cash, that is.”

“Cash?”

 “…oops.”

A deep sigh. “How much?”

“… three thousand?”

“I see.”

****

Ian was pissed. Just when he thought he and Mickey were getting somewhere, the short brunette was suddenly avoiding him. He was never in their shared room, and he wasn’t even in the library, despite Ian’s attempts to find him. The librarian had glanced at him questioningly as he searched each corridor and corner.

“Has Mickey come into the library?”

“Kid with all the textbooks? Not in a while.”

Surely, Ian thought, he would run into Mickey in class. But as he walked into Maths, he was shocked to discover Mickey’s seat empty. He was even more shocked when the teacher didn’t even bat an eye at Mickey’s absence.

At the end of the lesson, he walked up to the teacher.

“Sir, do you know where Mickey is today?”

“Ah, Mickey? The principal needed him for something.”

_The principal? That woman?_

****

Ian could hear soft murmuring as he approached the Principal’s office.

“What do you think of the boy?”

“He’s… a lazy shit, but he’s smart when he puts his mind to it.”

Ian furrowed his eyebrows. Were they talking about him?

“And how much tutoring have you done with him?”

“Quite a bit… his grades have improved.”

Ian moved closer to the door, and seeing it was slightly ajar, peeked in. Mickey, indeed, was sitting there, facing the principal.

“Yes, you’ve really helped him along. Good job, Mickey.”

From his spot besides the door, Ian struggled not to let out a noise of surprise. _Good job?_ What was the principal on about? It almost sounded like… Mickey had been _asked_ to tutor Ian.

“Yeah well… I knew Gallagher from Southside. Don’t think he remembers me but… it’s probably better if he doesn’t.”

“In any case, I’m pleased. I’ll help some more with Yevgeny. Svetlana has been asking me to cover his Science field trip.”

“Thanks Ms Matousek.”

Ian couldn’t hold it in. He burst through the door.

“What is going on?”

Mickey turned to him with wide eyes. “…Ian?”

He ignored Mickey and turned to the principal, who was watching their interaction with shrewd eyes. “Did you put Mickey up to this? Tutoring me?”

The principal sat back in her chair and returned his fierce glare. “Yes. You have a problem with this?”

“So you’ve been paying Mickey off to what… watch me behind my back?”

“I was curious to track your progress. And I’m not really pay-…”

“I can’t believe this.”

While Ian stood there, a sense of betrayal washing through him, he saw Mickey rise up from his seat.

“You’re not any better, Gallagher.”

“What are you talking about?”

“How much did you bet again?”

Ian’s blood turned cold. Mickey chuckled grimly before continuing.

“Was it… three thousand? Yeah, I know, Gallagher. You can’t pull one over me. Don’t you dare lecture _me_ about being paid off. You don’t even know the full story.”

“What do you mean…”

“You don’t get to know. Why don’t you go collect your prize money? I hear he’s got it ready for you.”

With one final glare, Mickey brushed past Ian and rushed out of the room.

Ian turned to the principal.

“Tell me more.”

She sighed in response, and shook her head slightly. “You’re very brash, Ian. Tell me, how much do you know about Mickey?”

“I…”

“His family? Where he comes from?”

Ian reddened in embarrassment. “I… I don’t know.”

“Hmm.”

“Can you tell me?”

“Ian, there’s someone else you should be asking this to. Don’t you think?”

“I guess so.”

****

When Ian returned to his room, he was surprised to see Mickey sitting at his desk, earphones in.

“…Mickey?”

He saw Mickey’s shoulders stiffen immediately.

“What?”

“I’m thinking we should… talk?”

Mickey sighed, looked up for a long moment as if hoping lightning would strike him where he sat, then turned around to face Ian.

“Your friend, Nick, told me what you were doing. I guess I’m not surprised.”

“I…” Ian paused. He felt unusually guilty. Surely it was just because he’d been caught red-handed, but he felt like a kid again, being scolded just like he’d been scolded by Fiona multiple times before. He looked at Mickey and saw an expression that he’d seen on Fiona’s face multiple times. _Weariness_. _Exhaustion_. Like he’d accepted that the world would only ever throw shit to him.

What had Fiona said once?

_Sometimes, I wish I could just give up._

“I should be angry at you, Gallagher,” Mickey chuckled darkly to himself. “But strangely enough, I’m not.”

“What?”

“We’ve met before. Once.”

“What?”

“Have you turned into a broken recorder?” Mickey deadpanned. “We’ve met before. You probably wouldn’t remember. It was… not great. My dad kicked both our asses.”

“…What?”

“Seriously?” Mickey rolled his eyes. “Fine, few years ago, the bastard caught us in some back alley. Then he kicked our asses and…” He paused as his voice wavered. “He made me fuck some whore down the road.”

“I…” Ian’s eyes furrowed, vague recollections appearing in his mind. He remembered hazily a night where he’d woken up hungover, with dried blood on his head, Fiona’s tear-streaked face at his side.

 _I thought I’d lost you_ , she’d said, and Ian had never understood. _I got lost?_ he’d asked. He remembered Fiona’s confused face as she recounted desperately searching the streets for him, finding him face down on the pavement as some old man holding a crowbar walked away.

“Terry must have hit you on the head pretty hard, if you still don’t remember.”

“I think I sorta remember…”

“You know what happened after that? Yevgeny was born.”

“You mean…”

“That’s right. I fuck a whore one time, and she winds up pregnant. Just my luck, huh? Then the fucking principal, can you believe, turns out to be this whore’s mother. Got this massive guilt complex now where she gets off spoiling Yevgeny rotten. It’s… how I got here.”

“But what about your family?”

“Everyone’s shit-scared of Terry. They wouldn’t lift a finger against him. I’m only here ‘cos the principal pulled some massive fucking strings. So yes, Gallagher, she did ask me to tutor you. And yes, she’s throwing money at me ‘cos she’s got some fucking guilt complex. And again, you ain’t much better.”

He advanced towards Ian.

“You know, I might as well help you get your three grand too.”

“Huh?”

Mickey pounced on him, dragging them both to the floor.

“Take me, or whatever the fuck, get your cash from that douchebag, then stay the fuck away from me.”

“But why?”

Mickey gritted his teeth. Before Ian had a chance to say something else, Mickey kissed him. Their lips bruised together, hard and forceful. He felt a hand unbuttoning his pants, forcing its way into Ian’s boxers.

“Fuck me hard, Gallagher.”

Ian convulsed as Mickey gripped him hard, bucking away from him, then slamming back towards him. He kept grinding against Mickey, before he too rammed a hand between their bodies, fumbling at Mickey’s belt before his own hand found Mickey and elicited a breathless moan.

He fetched lube and condoms from a drawer – “You were all prepared for this, weren’t you, Gallagher?” – before drenching two of his fingers and plunging them into Mickey, who responded as if electrified.

“Ah, fuck!” Mickey panted and arched while Ian’s fingers worked their way deep inside him. Ian lifted his head and simply watched Mickey’s face while he fucked him with his fingers, occasionally letting his gaze sweep down Mickey’s body and back up to his face again. He watched, enchanted, as Mickey’s face flushed and the bruised lips parted, while Ian’s fingers scissored and plunged. “Fuck, Gallagher, please!”

Satisfied that Mickey really was already prepared, Ian pulled back and positioned himself between Mickey’s thighs. He hoisted one leg onto his shoulder, let Mickey wrap the other around his waist and slowly eased himself into Mickey’s tight, welcoming heat. They both almost fell apart.

“Fuck,” Ian exhaled slowly, his head lolling back while he pushed himself in to the hilt.

It wasn’t long before Ian could feel his orgasm approaching, especially when Mickey tumbled over the edge and released over their bodies.

When Ian finally finished, finding completion as Mickey clenched around him, he rested his head in Mickey’s shoulder for a brief moment before the brunette shoved him off and stood up.

“You got what you want from me. Now fuck off and never talk to me again.”

Ian lay sprawled on the floor, come sticking on his abdomen and dick, as he stared in shock at Mickey’s quick departure.

He opened his phone to his messages.

 _I fucked him_.

Pressing send, he rested his head back on the floor, waiting for the thrill of achieving his conquest to come.

It never did.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone around Ian seems to know something he doesn't.

There was too much light. Ian groaned, covering his eyes from the sun shining directly on his face. He shoved his face into his pillow, only to find he wasn’t lying on his pillow, nor was he lying on his bed. As his body began to ache, Ian realised he was lying on the cold, hard ground.

“Ugh.”

Looking down, Ian realised he was completely naked, and there was… dried come on his stomach? He continued to blink blearily at the sight until the events of the previous night finally registered in his mind.

His phone buzzed.

_10/10 job. You win. I’ll see you later._

Ian groaned as he slowly got up from his makeshift bed. Time to collect his prize. And maybe some breakfast too, for this empty feeling in his stomach.

****

“I didn’t think you had it in you.”

His friend was wolfing down eggs and toast as he garbled some sentences at Ian.

“Was he good?”

Ian poked at his egg. “Yeah.”

“Here,” Nick reached into his jacket and pulled out some notes. “I wasn’t expecting this to actually happen.”

Ian stared blankly at the wad of cash on the table.

He poked at his egg some more.

He pocketed the cash a moment later.

****

“Ian, why the fuck do you have three thousand dollars?”

His older sister was fuming as she juggled three orders around the café.

“I swear, you better not have done something illegal…”

Ian shook his head. “No, I just won a bet. It was a pretty high-stakes bet.”

Fiona glanced at him suspiciously. “What kind of bet was this?’

“It wasn’t anything illegal! Just hooked up with this cute nerd.”

Fiona hmmed in response. “What’s his name?”

“I heard he used to live in Chicago. Mickey?”

Fiona stopped suddenly midway in picking up a fourth order, causing the plates to wobble dangerously.

“Mickey?” Fiona’s voice had dropped dangerously. “As in Mickey Milkovich?”

Ian nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that’s the one!”

Fiona slowly set down all the plates she was holding and jabbed at Ian’s chest.

“Ow! Fiona! What are you doing?”

“Get out,” she seethed.

“What?”

“Get out. I don’t want this money.” With surprising strength, Fiona manhandled Ian out of the café. When she’d successfully pushed him onto the sidewalk, she shook her head in disbelief.

“I’m disappointed in you.” She glared at him a final time before turning back and slamming the door behind her.

Ian could only stare confusedly as he watched his sister disappear into the kitchen.

****

“I think I’m missing something.”

“I think you’ve always been missing something, little brother.”

 “Fuck you. I’m being serious. Fiona blew up on me today.”

Lip scoffed. “What’d you do this time?”

Ian shook his head. “I don’t even know. I gave her three thousand, then she blew up when she asked how I’d gotten it.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask how you got your hands on that much cash.”

“It was nothing, I just won a bet and fucked this dude, Mickey Milkovich.”

“… Mickey Milkovich?”

Ian turned to see a contemplative expression on Lip’s face.

“No, not you too.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“I can see it plainly on your face.”

“I… I guess I understand Fiona’s reaction now.”

“What? It was just a harmless fuck, and I got some cash out of it. What’s the problem?”

Lip chuckled lowly and glanced at Ian with… _pity_? “You… really don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember _what_?” Ian became increasingly agitated. “Why do I feel like everyone knows something that I don’t?”

Lip’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think I’m the best person to tell you, Ian.”

“Who is then?”

“Fiona was there. Try talking to her again.”

“Fiona was there?”

****

“I don’t want the money, Ian.”

Ian placed his hand over hers. “Fi… you need the money.”

Fiona sighed as she sorted through the papers spread out over the table.

“Lip said there’s something I don’t remember. About Mickey Milkovich.”

Fiona looked up.

“And that you were there when it happened.”

Fiona flinched.

“I need to know, Fi.”

She released a broken sigh. “Fine.”

****

“You come here often?”

“You use that line on people?”

“Usually, they’re too stunned by how good-looking I am.”

A scoff. “You’re thinking too highly of yourself.”

“Hmm… I don’t think so.”

“Fuck it. Follow me.”

****

“Fuck, right… _there_ , Firecrotch.”

“Firecrotch?”

“Well, the carpet matches the drapes. Quit yapping and fuck me harder.”

****

“Oh, shit!”

“What the FUCK?!”

“Dad, hold on!”

…

“Ian? Ian?!”

“Leave him to die. As for you, this girl here’s gonna fuck the….”

****

“You were in a coma for nearly three weeks. When I found you, I thought… I thought you were going to…”

Fiona quickly looked the other way and furiously rubbed at her eyes.

“While you were in a coma, Mickey somehow managed to get his father thrown in prison. And he also paid off all your hospital bills. When you woke up, he was going to talk to you, but… you couldn’t remember who he was.”

Fiona took another shaky breath.

“When you got expelled, it was Mickey who forced open a spot for you at his school. The principal’s got a soft spot or something for him, I don’t really know. They told me, but I didn’t know how to tell you, when you didn’t even remember who Mickey was.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Ian…. Ian?

Ian had remained motionless at the table, staring blankly at the wall behind Fiona.

Fiona waved a hand in front of him. “Hey! Don’t zone out on me!”

Slowly, the clarity in Ian’s eyes returned. He placed the money back on the table. “Take it. I know you need it.”

Fiona bit her lip, then hesitantly accepted the notes.

“Wait!” she shouted, seeing that Ian had moved towards the door. “What are you going to do now?”

Ian paused at the door and looked back with a carefully blank expression. Fiona felt goosebumps appear on her arms.

“I need to think.”

With that, he walked out, and slammed the door behind him.

Fiona sighed shakily before she gave up and started sobbing.


	10. Chapter 10

Mickey let out a sigh of relief as he opened the door to an empty room. He made a beeline for his clothes and hastily stuffed them into his bag. He glanced at his textbooks and swore. They were too heavy. He’d have to sneak in another day.

Just as he turned towards the door, it slammed open, causing him to jump.

“Goddammit!”

Ian stumbled through, and pointed an unsteady finger at him.

“What… what are you doing here?” he slurred.

“Jesus, Gallagher, are you drunk?” Mickey grimaced at the pungent smell of shitty beer that was now filling the room. “The fuck have you been up to?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you knew me?”

Mickey paused. “What are you talking about? Go to bed and sleep it off.”

The redhead’s eyes darkened as he stalked towards Mickey, cornering him against the wall. His breath stank of alcohol, yet his expression was startlingly clear.

“No. Fiona told me everything.”

Mickey looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ian grabbed his chin and turned Mickey’s face back towards him. “Everything that happened with your father, why I’m here at this place… I remember.”

Mickey squirmed uncomfortably. “Ian… please, you’re drunk.”

Ian’s grip tightened painfully. “Tell me why you didn’t say anything.”

When Mickey didn’t respond, Ian’s grip began to crush him. “Gallagher! Get the fuck away from me!” He used all his strength to shove the redhead in the chest, causing him to stumble back.

“You didn’t remember who I was, so I thought it was better not to bring it up. Alright?” He raised his eyebrows. “It was the for the best anyway, considering how much of a jackass you’ve been.” At the redhead’s glare, he bristled. “Now back off before I give you a black eye.”

There was minute where the two of them faced each other, breathing harshly. For a moment, Mickey thought he would give in to his base desire to just reach out for Ian and bring their mouths together. He clenched his fist and willed his breaths to slow down. Ian’s eyes, which had previously been filled with anger, were now uncertain.

As soon as Ian stepped back, Mickey quickly grabbed his bags and raced out of the room.

****

“Mickey!"

Mickey heard Ian’s voice coming towards him, calling his name loudly across the hallway. Mickey quickened his steps, and stormed through the small crowd. He heard Ian apologise to someone, probably knocking into people with his flailing, long limbs. He’d been avoiding Ian all day and succeeded. Until now. Just right before he could escape back to his new room. One of his classmates happened to have an empty bed in his dorm, so Mickey had sneaked in without telling anyone.

“Mickey, I swear to God, if you don’t stop right now…” Ian sounded exasperated, as if Mickey was the one testing his patience instead of the other way around. Whatever made him think he was the one entitled to feeling that way, Mickey was amazed.

Despite a wave of indignation rising in him, Mickey stopped in his tracks. Clenching his fists, he mustered the courage to turn around and face the redhead.

He found Ian standing right in front of him, towering over his smaller stature. Mickey took a step back.

“We need to talk.”

Mickey scoffed. “No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do! Why didn’t you tell me about everything?”

Mickey raised a single eyebrow at Ian. “Why do I need to inform you about every aspect of my own life?”

Ian carded a hand through his hair. An act of frustration.

“Are you upset just because I didn’t tell you I knew you before?”

“Yes!”

Mickey raised both eyebrows. “And why the fuck are you upset about this?”

“Because no one fucking tells me anything!” Ian snapped. Mickey winced at his outburst. The students around them weren’t doing a good job of pretending they weren’t listening in on the conversation.

“Why should anyone tell you anything?”

Ian huffed in annoyance. “…What did you say?”

Despite the turmoil in his head, Mickey found an unbridled anger rising inside of him that he couldn’t suppress. “All you’ve done is make up some stupid fucking bet. You don’t have any fucking right to know _anything_ about my life.”

Ian watched him with wet eyes. _Fucking hell._

“I thought if we met again, and you didn’t remember me, we could become friends or some shit, I don’t know.” Mickey cursed inwardly. Why was he revealing all this? He shook his head. “You’re one selfish prick, Ian, but I guess I am, too.”

“Mickey…” Ian’s voice trailed off, sounding apologetic. At that moment, Mickey realised his own eyes were wet. He hastily rubbed them before rushing away.

****

Mickey had spent the evening sitting at the library, books scattered in front of him. He was the perfect picture of productivity right now.

But that was it. Just a picture of productivity, because fucking Gallagher kept blowing up his phone with a constant stream of texts.

_Where are you?_

_We need to talk._

_Please reply._

Another vibration. Mickey grabbed his phone and set it to silent. Deep inside, he wondered why he didn’t just block Gallagher’s number already. Perhaps he didn’t want to admit to himself the implications of avoiding such a permanent action.

His phone lit up. Mickey had forgotten to place his phone facing downwards. This time, Ian was calling him. He sighed, and picked up the call.

“What.”

“Mickey… come back to our room.”

Mickey refused to be affected by the drunken slur. He almost flinched at the way Gallagher had said “our room”.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s lonely without you.”

Mickey scoffed. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Mickey…”

The nerve of the guy. Did Gallagher think he could act like he was the one being hurt in this situation? Mickey rubbed at his eyes again; he was so mad he’d begun tearing up. “Don’t call me again, Gallagher. You think we're boyfriend and girlfriend here? You're nothing but a warm mouth to me.”

He hung up and threw his phone out of sight.

Looking at the books in front of him, Mickey swore.

_So much for productivity._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The benefits of real-life communication.

The room was oddly silent when Ian woke up. He listened for the sound of pages being flicked, and notes being written, before he remembered that those sounds were long gone. _Mickey_ had long gone.

He tried to lift his head from his pillow and groaned as he accidentally bumped into some beer bottles that had been strewn across his bed.

“The fuck…?”

Ah, right. He’d drunk dialled Mickey last night. He felt a wave of hurt as the other’s words resounded in his mind. _You’re nothing but a warm mouth to me_. Ian fought the urge to chuckle grimly at the irony of his situation. To think he’d been the one who had initially claimed so confidently that he would easily hook up with Mickey, and yet he was now reeling from such words.

_Knock knock._

“…Mickey?”

“No, it’s Nick. Open up, Ian. You can’t just spend the whole day moping around in there.”

Ian swore to himself, and grumbled as he got up to open the door. Nick burst in, uncaring that the door practically slammed inwards, Ian just managing to avoid getting caught between the door and the wall it slammed against.

“So, my friend… you look like utter shit,” Nick deadpanned.

Ian flipped him off. “Whatever.” When Nick eyed the beer bottles lying around the room in distaste, he only flipped off his friend again.

Nick sighed. “Look… I gotta admit… the bet probably wasn’t a good idea.”

Ian snorted. “No shit.”

Nick glared at him. “Yeah, whatever, you’re the one who made it. But… this isn’t normal, Ian.” He shook his head before continuing. “Ugh, I guess I should play the role of a decent friend for once. I can tell something’s bothering you, Ian.” He sat on Mickey’s bed, despite Ian’s loud vocal protest.

“Oi! That’s Mickey’s bed!”

“He’s not even sleeping here anymore.”

“Still…”

Nick only shook his head. He mumbled something under his breath. Ian narrowed his eyes. It sounded suspiciously like, “whipped.”

“Come on, Ian. What’s got you in such a funk?”

Ian remained silent.

“Use your words, Ian. I know it’s hard…”

“Don’t fucking patronise me.”

“…”

“Fine.” Ian plopped down face-first on Mickey’s bed and began to tell Nick his woes.

“I’m just sick of everyone treating me like some immature kid. Apparently, I knew Mickey before I even came here. Apparently, I even fucked him already a long time ago, and then his abusive dad went full aggro on me and just… shit. I didn’t even remember any of it. And no-one ever told me about it.”

Ian pounded on the mattress in frustration.

“…”

Ian continued to pound on the mattress.

“…”

Ian paused as he noticed the bed was shaking, not because he was moving, but because Nick was shaking as he tried to hold in laughter. He got up and punched Nick in the shoulder.

“Why are you laughing?! This isn’t funny!”

Nick put his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Sorry. I just…”

Ian glared at him another laugh escaped.

“It’s just… you’re complaining everyone’s treating you like an immature kid, and you’re literally lying on a bed punching it like a kid throwing a tantrum.” With that, he began laughing again.

Ian turned red in embarrassment. “That’s it, get out. I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“Alright, alright sorry.” Though it was clear he wasn’t actually sorry, Ian couldn’t be bothered to kick the traitor out.

He sighed. “And now, Mickey won’t talk to me.”

“Then corner him in person.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Then he can’t get out of talking to you. And… maybe admit you’re in love with him while you’re at it.”

Ian rose in righteous fury. “The fuck did you just say?”

Nick, sensing immediate danger, quickly raced to the other side of the room.

“…”

“Is it that obvious?”

“… No…?”

“Ugh, you’re the one who helped get me into this mess. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me. Get out of my sight.”

When the traitorous student finally left Ian alone, he flopped back down on Mickey’s bed and began thinking.

_How to corner Mickey…_

****

“Firstly, why didn’t you tell me about Mickey? Secondly, I need to know which room he’s staying in right now.”

The principal raised a single eyebrow at Ian. “I do not understand why I would need to inform you about your own life. And Mickey is officially staying with you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You knew about me, and you knew about Mickey. And nice try, but I’m willing to bet that you know where he’s staying _unofficially_.”

“Isn’t a bet what got you into this mess in the first place…?”

“That’s not the point!”

The principal simply chuckled. “What is your point then?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Are you upset because no one has told you about what happened to you two years ago?”

“Yes!”

The principal raised her eyebrow again. “I do not understand why you are so upset.”

Ian huffed in annoyance. “Because no one fucking tells me anything!”

“Why should they?”

“… What did you say?”

Ms Matousek narrowed her eyes. “What would compel Mickey to tell you _anything_ about him? All you have done is play a stupid game with him at the centre.”

“I…”

“Do you actually _know_ what Mickey has been through? Did you ever talk to him beyond wanting to share the same bed with him?”

As Ian stared at his hands, the principal sighed. “I’m not saying you’re a bad person, Ian. But if you ever get something out of being here, at least learn this. Try talking to people you care about once in a while.”

She slipped a piece of paper into his hands.

“That’s the room Mickey is currently staying in.”

Ian looked up at her. “I…” He grabbed the paper and stood up. “Alright. Umm…” He stood up awkwardly and glanced towards the door.

The principal chuckled. “I believe the words you’re looking for are… _Thank you_.”

****

“Mickey, I need to talk to you!”

Ian banged on the door endlessly. By now, a crowd of students had gathered nearby. Ian ignored the whispers.

“Mickey! I know you’re in there! I can see you moving around!”

He chuckled as he heard a bang in the room, followed by a loud, “Shit, ow!”

The door opened, revealing a short, glaring nerd.

“Wipe that fucking smirk off your face, Gallagher.”

Ian walked into the room, brushing past Mickey, undeterred by his scoffs of protest.

“Close the door,” he ordered.

Mickey spluttered. “I’m not your fucking maid.” He moved to do so anyway. The crowd that had gathered was starting to become bothersome.

Ian felt the tension in the room rise as soon as the door had closed.

“What do you want?” Mickey no longer sounded angry, just exasperated.

“I… I want you to take back what you said about me just being a warm mouth to you.”

“… The fuck? Listen here, dipshit…”

“And… I guess I’m also saying sorry.”

The unexpected apology effectively halted Mickey’s verbal assault. “Huh?”

“I was angry that everyone treated me like a kid. And… I still think you should have told me when we first met here. But… I guess I’ve finally realised that maybe there’s a reason why everyone treats me like a kid.”

He slowly approached Mickey, who took a step backwards instantly.

Ian sighed sadly. “I’ve also had a lot of time to think while you were busy avoiding me. You’ve done a lot for me. I know the principal probably bribed you or something, but you tutored me, took me out to eat… I guess, you treated me as more than just a kid.”

Mickey refused to look at him. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“It’s okay if you don’t believe me now, but… I like you, Mickey. I really do. So… please take back what you said about me just being a warm mouth, because I want to be more than just a warm mouth to you.” Ian shuddered inwardly at the words coming out of him. Never would he have expected to turn into such a fucking sap.

“Gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying this crap.” Ian panicked as Mickey’s eyes widened. “Not that it’s crap! I just… ugh…”

Mickey let out a peal of laughter. Ian stared at him, entranced.

“Huh?”

Mickey continued to laugh. “Fucking hell, Ian.” Ian preened at the fact that Mickey had called him by his first name. “You’re more than just a warm mouth to me.”

“…Really?”

“Really.” Mickey shook his head as Ian tried to approach him to touch him, kiss him, anything. “No. You’re still in the fucking doghouse. I’m not forgiving you yet.”

Ian smirked at him. “Yet?”

Mickey scoffed but relented. “Not yet.”

Ian nodded sagely. “Alright. I’ll work hard to win you back.”

“Are you saying I’m just some trophy to win?”

“What? No! That’s not what I meant! Shit, Mickey I’m sorry…”

“You’re actually just an idiotic puppy, aren’t you?” Mickey smiled at him softly. “I’m joking, Ian.”

Ian grinned at him. Mickey tried to pretend he didn’t feel his heart flutter at the sight.

“And are you going to move back into my room now?”

“Fucking hell, give the kid an inch, he goes for the whole fucking mile.”

“…”

“Fucking fine. Stop looking at me like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a very, very, very long road, but we've finally gotten towards the end. Still one more chapter to go, but I'll take this chance to thank EVERYONE who read this. THANK YOU for reading. And especially THANK YOU to those who welcomed me back after practically 2 years of abandoning this fic. I especially want to thank maryellen590 and SUZYQ717 - you two commented from the very beginning of my story to now. Even if I don't necessarily know you personally, I treasure this connection that we have; this appreciation for Gallavich.
> 
> To talk about what happened to this fic, I started writing it back when we still had hope for Gallavich, but pretty much abandoned it when Gallavich ended up dead in a ditch. But I'm so glad I've managed to make it reach some kind of conclusion (again, still one more chapter to go!). 
> 
> It's bittersweet that I joined the Shameless fandom after Gallavich's peak, but I don't regret it. Gallavich's story is poignant, beautiful, heart-warming, heart-wrenching, painful, horrific - the list of adjectives goes on. I discovered Gallavich at a time when I was going some of the most massive doubts in my life, and some of the most painful events of my life. Their story helped me find confidence in myself at a time when I felt like I couldn't keep going. So it will always remain in a special place in my heart.
> 
> Unfortunately, Gallavich has been buried in the show-writers' shameless quest for comedy that only falls more flat with each episode, but that doesn't mean it's not still fighting to stay alive through the power of fans and fanfiction. Occasionally, I check the Shameless tag, and am so pleasantly surprised to see that people are still writing about Gallavich, and reading content about Gallavich. So I'm glad I've been a part of this.
> 
> However, once this fic ends with the next chapter, this obviously isn't set in stone (because when is anything in life), but I most likely won't be writing about Gallavich again. It was a great ride, but it's my turn to get off. So again, thank you so, so much for reading what I've written for the Shameless fandom. I'm so glad I got such wonderful responses to my work, and so touched that it resonated with so many people.
> 
> I'll never forget Gallavich's love story.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap. Thank you for reading!

To Ian’s pleasant surprise, moving Mickey back into their room was simpler than expected. He glanced suspiciously at the shorter student when he returned with just one backpack.

Ian smirked as Mickey opened his closet, which was practically full. “Are you sure you even moved out?”

Mickey flipped him off. “It was just a hassle to move everything at once.”

“Okay.”

“Wipe that fucking smirk off your face.”

“Okay.”

Mickey cursed inwardly. The nerve of this kid, honestly. He shoved his clothes in with more force than necessary, and turned away from the annoying redhead.

“Hey.”

Mickey didn’t move to look at him.

Ian got up from where he’d been lying on his bed, and placed a hand on Mickey’s shoulder, slowly turning him around. He faced Mickey with sincere eyes.

“Thanks for moving back in.”

Mickey felt his face burn red in embarrassment and quickly turned to avoid Ian’s direct stare.

“Didn’t do it for you.”

Ian smiled mischievously. “Sure you didn’t.”

“Fuck you, seriously.”

Mickey leapt on the closest bed and burrowed under the blanket.

“Mickey… you know that’s my bed right?”

“…”

Mickey didn’t complain when Ian slipped under the blanket as well.

****

As Ian and Mickey walked into the food hall ( _not_ holding hands, because _gross_ , Mickey thought to himself), he saw the other students giving them unsubtle glances. Ian, after all, had been quite loud in his confession the day before, and had practically gotten the attention of half of the school.

“I’ll get food for you,” Ian offered. He walked away before Mickey could reject.

Mickey grumbled to himself as he sat down at a table. “I can get food my own goddamn self.” As he stewed in embarrassment (because everyone was still _staring_ ), he didn’t notice Nick sitting down opposite him.

“Hi, Mickey.”

“What do you want?”

“I can’t talk to my wonderful friend?”

Mickey glared at the blonde. “I can see why you two are friends. Fucking annoying.”

Nick placed a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded, Mickey. I thought we were close after our chat.”

“Is that what you call chatting nowadays?”

“Well, to be fair, you did threaten to kick my face in when I told you about the bet…”

A tray was set down in front of Mickey.

“What’s this about Mickey threatening you?” Ian asked as he sat down next to Mickey.

Nick let out a laugh. “When I told him about the bet.”

“… Ahh.” Ian chuckled nervously.

“…You know, I’d like to think you did win the bet, Ian.”

Ian whipped around to look Mickey. “…Did you just say what I think you said?”

Mickey was smirking as he leaned towards Nick. Ian gulped as he watched Mickey’s expression with fascination. Was it wrong that Mickey’s smirk turned him on a little?

“After all, he did… what were your words again?” Mickey took a second to ponder. “Ah, that’s right. He did… _corrupt_ me.”

Nick looked positively flustered. “Huh?”

Mickey leaned in and lowered his voice. “I mean… I’ve been staying over at Ian’s. He gives it to me _good_ and _hard_ and I fucking _like_ it.”

The effect was immediate.

Ian spit out the water he was drinking, and found himself needing to adjust his pants, while Nick gaped at them with a horrified expression.

“Fuck you two, I did _not_ need to know _that_!”

“But isn’t that what you agreed?” Mickey’s smile was deadly. “Ian corrupted me like the _good_ bitch I am. Redhead, batshit crazy… packing nine inches? Shit, I might just jump on him now.”

Nick immediately stood up. “Nope. Nope. Fuck off. I know what you’re doing. Fuck.”

The corner of Mickey’s lips turned upwards. “How much did you bet again? Three thousand?”

Nick shook his head. “I hate you.”

Mickey continued, undeterred. “But you know, if you just cough it up, I might stop telling you about how good… _daddy gives it to me_.”

Ian shifted again as he hurriedly crossed his legs. _Shit_ , when did Mickey have such a dirty mouth?

Nick watched the two of them with continued horror. “Fuck. Fine. I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m leaving now.”

Mickey watched him leave with a satisfied grin. “That was easy.”

Ian was still staring at Mickey, speechless.

“What’s wrong, Ian?” The wicked glint in his eyes told Ian he knew _exactly_ what was wrong.

Ian shook his head. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

Mickey shrugged. “Simple. I just described what I’ve imagined.”

“…Fuck.”

“Anyway… three grand? You’ve got all you want now, don’t you, Gallagher?”

Ian watched him with a soft smile. “Nah. I already had all I wanted.”

Mickey blushed again at Ian’s intense stare.

“But I think Fiona would appreciate some cash…”

 ****

“This isn’t illegal mob money or something, is it?”

“I swear it’s not. My friend just… owed me.”

“Your friend owed you three thousand dollars?”

“…Yeah.”

“Okay, whatever. I won’t say no. I’m not even going to ask how.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Ian cheerfully agreed.

“Alright, bye kid.”

“Bye, Fi.”

When Ian hung up, the mass on his chest shifted.

“She happy?” a muffled voice asked.

“…Yeah, she was, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.”

Mickey turned up to look at Ian, from where he’d situated himself on Ian’s chest.

“What about you?”

Ian looked back at Mickey. He admired Mickey’s furrowed brows (and just existence, in general, _gosh, he’d become so sappy_ ), and reached up to ruffle Mickey’s hair.

“I’m good.”

They continued looking at each other for a minute.

“I’m good too.”

Ian felt a stutter in his chest. They hadn’t yet defined what exactly _this_ was between them, but he felt pretty good about where they were going. In a week, they would go back to Chicago _together_. Mickey had told him about his sister, the only person he still talked to in his family. Mandy. Ian felt the stutter in his chest grow thinking about Mickey slowly opening up to him more.

He was brought back to his surroundings by Mickey’s hand slowly trailing down his stomach to play with the band of his boxers.

“So you uhh… you ready to go again or you need some time, Firecrotch?”

“You know we’ve gone three times today already? I think the guys in the next room have already applied to move somewhere else.”

“Whatever, just get on me.”

“Wow, I really have corrupted you, haven’t I?”

Mickey only smirked in response as he lifted himself to meet Ian’s lips.


End file.
